Son of Khyber: Thorn of Breland (23 page)

Though he was still sweating from the pain, Drego wasn’t one to pass up such an opportunity. “It’s hidden by my clothing, sister. But if you’d like a private viewing, that could certainly be arranged.”

That was certainly the Drego she remembered. He’d pursued her throughout their time in Droaam. She still wasn’t sure if it was entirely a game, or if there
was some spark of truth behind it. Even when he’d turned on her in Droaam, he’d still asked her to take his side and come with him. She didn’t trust him, yet there was something between them, something she couldn’t easily explain. Even now, she found herself enjoying the interplay and wanting to draw it out. “So what does it do?”

“My gifts relate to spirits, sister,” he said. “I may not have power to match our mighty Son of Khyber, but my powers help me track and battle fiends and other immortals. Beyond that, I studied the arcane arts before my mark manifested, so I have a few other tools in my arsenal.”

“Impressive,” she said. “Tracking and binding fiends. How do you measure against an exorcist of the Silver Flame?” Thrane had long been known for its corps of exorcists.

“Interesting that you should ask,” Drego replied. “I was in fact raised in the church, and for a time I served the nation. But despite the powers of my mark, the mere fact that it was aberrant was enough to turn my superiors against me. I was cast out from my duties. I’m grateful that Tavin and the Son of Khyber have given me the chance to put my skills to good use.”

So there was his story. There was even the chance that it was true—though Thorn didn’t believe it.

Daine had remained silent throughout their banter, and now he spoke again. Whatever vulnerability or remorse he’d let Thorn see had vanished. He was the Son of Khyber again, confident and in charge. “You made good time, Brother Drego. Did you acquire the information we require?”

Drego nodded. He produced a leather scroll case and handed it to Daine. “Everything’s there. I don’t have an exact location, but certainly a place to begin.”

“Very well. I will need time to study this and to prepare for the challenge ahead. I suggest that the two of you rest and enjoy yourselves as best you can during this time. We go to face an immortal, a being who gazed down on Eberron before the first human was born. There is every chance that we will not return.”

Thorn held out her hand, reaching for his arm. “Is there anything I can—?”

“No.” He brushed her hand away. “If you see Xu’sasar, tell her she may return. I will call you when it is time. Now leave me. Both of you.”

Thorn and Drego looked at each other for a moment. Thorn knew he was thinking the same thing she was—waiting for the other to move first. She smiled and walked past him. Despite the bravado, she felt a shiver through her nerves as he followed her.

They were in the Chamber of Bones when he reached out for her. Perhaps he was only going to lay his hand on her shoulder, but there were all too many spells that could be cast with a touch. She
felt
the movement as he reached for her. The next instant Steel was in her hand, and the tip of the dagger was set against his throat. Only then did she turn to look at him.

“No offense intended … Nyrielle.” He smiled as he said her name. “You’ve always been better than I at finding your way around in the dark. I’d hoped you’d be my guide.”

Thorn had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed when her sight shifted into the spectrum of grays. She knew Drego had no similar gift for seeing in the dark—or hadn’t when last they had met. Nonetheless, he seemed to have no trouble keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

“Of course,” Thorn said. “I’m always glad to lend
a hand to an old friend. Let me show you a few of our sights.”

A moment later Drego was on his knees. Thorn stood behind him, her forearm pressing against the back of his neck, Steel laid against his throat. “We call this the wall,” she said, driving Drego’s forehead against it with a firm tap. Steel said nothing, but Thorn could feel his amusement.

“Hardly … a way … to treat … family,” Drego gasped.

Thorn pressed her knee into the small of his back. “What are you doing in Breland, Drego?”

Considering the situation, he remained remarkably composed. “Being horribly mistreated,” he said.

She slammed his forehead against the wall again. “Don’t push me, Thrane. I was willing to work with you when we were both on neutral ground—and even then, you betrayed me. Give me one good reason not to kill you right now.”

“You’re about to fight a fallen angel,” he said.

“So it seems.”

“You’ll need me to survive. My dragonmark may be as false as yours, but I
am
trained to battle creatures not of this plane. I can find this radiant idol, and I can help you destroy it.”

Thorn considered this, letting Steel’s edge press against Drego’s soft skin. “And how did you come to be here? What do you stand to gain?”

Remarkably, Drego still had the aplomb to chuckle. “Brelish. You see the world in shades of gray, but sometimes it is black and white. I’m a flame-bearer of the church, Nyrielle. I’ve sworn to protect the innocent from supernatural evil, and that means driving these horrors from the world. For hundreds of years, the Church of the Silver Flame battled evil
across all Five Nations. Then the war came. Now we are not trusted. We are seen as agents of Thrane, when we actually serve a power that would shield every nation.”

“The Silver Flame has churches throughout Breland,” Thorn growled. “Why do we need you to come in and solve our problems?”

“You don’t have a priest in Breland worth my spit,” Drego said. Thorn could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “This nation has always been riddled with corruption. Graft and greed drives your hierophant, not the Voice of the Silver Flame. Those with the courage to fight evil either fled to Thrane during the war or have been held in check by their corrupt superiors.”

Interesting
, Steel observed.
So he admits that he’s a spy, but claims that he was sent into Breland to assassinate an evil spirit
.

“This is hardly the first time this has happened,” Drego said. “Throughout the war, Flamebearers worked in Aundair, Breland, Cyre … even as far as the Lhazaar Principalities. Yes, we want to see Galifar united by the Silver Flame. But faith must always come before politics. The Flame exists to battle these creatures. It is our duty to protect all innocents, regardless of nationality, from these beasts.”

“It’s a pretty story,” Thorn said. “Perhaps even enough to keep me from killing you as a spy. But the last time I put my trust in you, you betrayed me and nearly unleashed a plague upon my nation.”

“Oh,
that,”
Drego said. “If you’re going to keep bringing that up, we’re never going to—”

Thorn called on the false dragonmark, letting the pain flow through her and into the Thrane. She held back its full power, but it was enough. He thrashed beneath her hand, gasping for breath.

“I’m not an ambassador tonight, Drego. I’m not playing the courtly game. I need a reason to let you live, and I’m still waiting to hear one.”

Drego was still breathing heavily. “I understand,” he said. “Let me … let me explain.”

And he was gone.

Thorn cursed. He’d used this trick the last time they’d fought—slipping between layers of reality. He was behind her. She spun, but fast as she was, it wasn’t enough. She saw a flash of silver light, and then the breath was crushed from her lungs. She was caught in a field of pure force, a gleaming hand that mirrored Drego’s clenched fist. Thorn struggled, fighting to summon the unnatural strength that had aided her in the past, but to no avail.

“I’m not playing games this time,” Drego said. His face was pale in the argent light cast by the hand, but his voice was steady. “What I did in Droaam had nothing to do with Breland. I sought to change Khorvaire itself. What I do now has nothing to do with Breland. I am here to destroy the ancient evils lurking below Sharn—something that will actually help your people. So kill me if you will. But if you do, you’re the one hurting Breland.”

He opened his hand, and Thorn’s bonds vanished.

“So what will it be?” he asked.

Thorn looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of his true intent. For the moment, he’d lowered the mask of the playful courtier. She could see his concern. He knew he was taking a risk by releasing her. But more than that, she could see that he
wanted
her to believe him. Why was her opinion important to him? Back in Droaam, he’d been determined to spare her life. Why?

She slid Steel back into his sheath and held out
her hand. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll work with you, Drego Sarhain.”

He smiled and took her hand. She tightened her grip and pulled him to her, slamming her right fist into his chest. Her supernatural strength rose to answer her anger, and Drego flew back and collapsed among the brittle bones.

“I’ll work with you,” Thorn said. “But betray me again, and you’d best kill me quickly. Because you won’t get another chance.”

Drego groaned. He tried to rise then fell back among the shattered bones. Thorn smiled and left him alone in the darkness.

The Undercity

T
horn stopped by the infirmary on her way to the barracks. She’d wanted to check on Palmer. She was surprised to see Brom still there, stretched out on a bier with his oversized arm propped against the floor. A halfling was kneeling next to him, suturing a wound on his chest. As Thorn watched, a rat crawled up along the woman’s arm and severed the thread with its teeth.

“Zae?” Thorn said.

Fileon’s daughter looked up from her work. She’d abandoned her beggar’s rags, and was wearing a simple black robe. Her eyes were wide and dark. “True,” she said. It was the first time Thorn had ever heard her speak.

“What are you doing here?”

Another rat hopped onto the table, a long needle gleaming in its mouth. Zae took it and began to thread it, but she kept her eyes locked on Thorn. “My father taught me the healing arts. Do you remember him?”

It was a chilling question, but stranger still coming from Zae. The girl spoke in a soft, lilting voice. There
was a strange distance in her eyes, and it seemed that she actually wanted to know the answer to the question. Thorn noticed that both the rats were watching her.

“Yes … I remember him.”

“I want to,” Zae said. “I remember what he taught me.”

Thorn relaxed slightly. Strange as the girl was, Zae didn’t seem to be on a quest for vengeance.

“We’ve left the high towers,” Zae said thoughtfully, looking back down at the injured dwarf. “But I like it here. There’s so many stories.”

Thorn let that pass “What’s wrong with Brom? I thought he could regenerate from any injury.”

“My father taught me my lessons on Brom,” Zae said, running a finger along the patterns of scales and chitin traced across the dwarf’s skin. “He told me that the gifts … the gifts of Khyber are unpredictable. When Brom heals, the damaged flesh is often replaced with elements of other species. In your last battle, he suffered severe internal injuries. His gift has kept him alive, but he hasn’t woken up. I suspect that one or more internal organs were damaged, and have returned in an incompatible form.”

Zae’s voice grew stronger as she spoken, and for a moment it seemed that it was Filleon who was speaking. Thorn tried to push the thought aside. “So … he might have a kobold’s heart?”

“Yes,” Zae said. “Something incapable of providing the flow of blood he needs.”

“What can you do?”

The halfling smiled “It’s a game my father taught me. I need to cut him open and find the parts that don’t belong. Then I cut them out, and keep doing it until he grows a part that works.”

Thorn was surprised by his cavalier attitude. “Has this happened before?”

“Oh, yes,” Zae said. “I’ve kept a few of the more interesting things I’ve found inside of him. Would you like to see?”

“No thanks,” Thorn said. “I need to get some rest before my next task … and I think that my dreams are strange enough as it is.”

The halfling shrugged again and returned to her work. A rat crawled up her back and peered down from her shoulder.